


til it's right again

by sylvermyth



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 14:06:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13168515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylvermyth/pseuds/sylvermyth
Summary: “You don’t have to go to all this trouble, you know.”Ignis paused, his attention turning to Noct.  “It’s no trouble at all.”





	til it's right again

**Author's Note:**

> prompt on tumblr from @princess-wasabi: "You don't have to go to all this trouble, you know."

“Shit.”

Noct’s curse was nearly lost to a cacophony of shattering glass and rustling branches, and by the time Ignis turned away from the oven to investigate—not that there was much to investigate, as the sound was rather telling—Noct was sprawled in a heap partially under the fallen Christmas tree, shards of broken ornaments scattered around him.  Ignis’ mouth thinned.  “Are you alright, Your Majesty?”  His question was met with a morose expression, Noct’s lips turned down at the edges, face pink with embarrassment.

“I’m fine.”  Noct shifted, moving to get up, and let out another, more colorful curse.

Ignis frowned, but didn’t comment.  He picked his way through the debris to help Noctis to his feet, offering his hand.  Noct grasped it with his left hand, cradling the other close to his chest, and Ignis didn’t have to ask to know what had happened—the floor was a hazard of broken glass.  He let out a heavy breath.  “Come on then, let’s get this cleaned up.”  He pointedly ignored the fallen tree and tugged Noct with him into the kitchen, already pulling out a first aid kit.  Noct hopped up to sit on the counter, visibly sulking, and for once Ignis didn’t chastise him.

Noct grunted when Ignis drew the colorful shard of glass out of his palm, but didn’t otherwise break the silence.  He was like this sometimes, and Ignis hated it, because it was hard to draw him out of these dark moods.

Ignis pursed his lips as he taped a chocobo band-aid over the injury.  “Alright then, there you are.”

“Thanks, Iggy.”  It came out colorless, and Ignis suppressed another sigh.

Ignis patted him on the hand.  “I’m just glad you aren’t more seriously injured.”  Noctis made a noncommittal noise, his eyes fixed on a blank space in front of him.  He should probably try a little harder to draw Noctis out of his mood, Ignis thought, automatically moving to pick up after his prince.  Ought to have him help right the tree and sweep up the shards of glass on the floor.

“It’s nothing so bad,” Ignis announced, once the tree was righted.  It wasn’t, not really, only a few ornaments had fallen, and maybe a couple branches had snapped, but the tree still sparkled with tinsel and candy-colored lights, the bright points reflecting off of baubles that were still in tact.

Noctis dropped to the floor, suddenly.  “It is!”  Before Ignis could warn against stray glass, Noct was bending over to retrieve something from the floor and—ah.  “Dad gave this to me.”  The ceramic moogle ornament had broken in all the chaos, and looked beyond repair.  But Ignis recognized the sentimental value of it.

“Here,” Ignis murmured, holding his hands out for it, “We’ll fix it.”

Noct looked doubtful, but he still handed it over, watching as Ignis arranged the pieces on the counter, taking stock of what went where and missing fragments.  Glue, he needed glue.  And some paints, for the imperfections.  Behind him, the oven timer dinged, and Ignis retrieved its contents on autopilot, concentration focused on the broken ornament.

The pieces weren’t quite all there, when Ignis glued them together, gaps and cracks glaringly white, but he could fix it.  He had to.  It was important to Noct, so it was important to him.  Noct watched him, arms folded on the countertop where he slouched, his gray eyes not quite blank anymore.

His eyes stayed on it when Ignis announced that he would sweep up the rest of the mess as the glue dried.  Ignis left and then came back again, with the requisite paints, and tested the glue before deeming it dry enough.

Ignis was so intent on painting in the details, careful to make it look as good as new, when Noct’s voice interrupted him.

“You don’t have to go to all this trouble, you know.”

Ignis paused, his attention turning to Noct.  “It’s no trouble at all.”

Noct fidgeted, eyes fixed on the counter.  “It’s my fault it’s broken.”

Ignis dipped the paintbrush in the pink he’d mixed.  “It was an accident.”

Noct was quiet for several moments, but Ignis was used to this by now.  “I guess it was.  Still.”

Ignis made a decisive stroke with the brush, not speaking, and then studied his work.  Satisfied, he set the ornament down and dropped the brush in the waiting cup of water.  “Come here, Noct.”

Ignis walked around the counter, catching Noct’s sleeve and guiding him to the couch, until they were both sprawled on it.  Noct curled against him quietly, relaxing bit by bit, until he let the last of his tension out with a sigh.

“There you are,” Ignis murmured, petting his hair.  Noct hummed, and Ignis could feel it against his chest.  “How did you knock the tree down, anyway?”  Noct’s face pinked, and he drew his arm over his head, as if to hide.  There was a muffled sound, and Ignis poked him.  “I didn’t hear you.”

“Warped.  I warped.”

Ignis felt his eyebrows crawling up his forehead.  “Why?”  He kept his tone neutral, holding in a laugh, but just barely.

“The star was crooked.”  Even with his face buried against Ignis’ chest, it sounded like a pout, and this time Ignis couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Well, that’s a way to do it, I suppose.”  He glanced up at the the tree, where the star at the top glittered.  “It seems straight to me, even after all that.”

Noct socked him in the shoulder, and Ignis supposed he deserved it.  It didn’t matter, anyway; his prince’s mood had lifted, and that was enough.


End file.
